Roses for Rose
by pmlvita
Summary: What Scorpius' and Rose's marriage could have turned out like, if Scorpius was like his father and Rose like her father. Scorpius is always depicted as 'a good guy', what if he wasn't at all? Oneshot.


**A/N: I just thought, everyone always writes Scorpius as this loving, shy and really great guy. I love that Scorpius, believe me, but I often wonder whether he'd have turned out like his father and grandfather. So I wrote this short oneshot, to show that. I hope I did it well, I'd appreciate any reviews. Thank-you!**

Roses for Rose

_Egg shells, angry voices, shattered glass, broken __promises, instant regret._

I took off my disheveled cloak and ran a sweaty hand through my dirty, tangled, shoulder-length, blonde hair. I rested the side of my head against the cool wooden surface of the bar, earning funny looks from a pretty bar-maid, who I recognized, but could not say where from. She had to be about my age, maybe she knew me, perhaps she'd help me. "Excuse me, what's your name?" I asked, her stern brown eyes meeting my tired grey ones.  
"Amy Abbott-Longbottom." Was her reply, in a firm and solid tone of voice, almost patronizing, she thought I was drunk.  
"I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Abbott-Longbottom. I'm Scorpius Malfoy, and I need your help, if you'll be so kind as to give it."  
"What kind of help?" She looked at me as if I was completely deranged, which alas, I was to a certain extent. The past few days had been trying, I wasn't going to deny that. I proceeded to explain exactly what I needed, it was obvious that I was completely sober by then, she knew, I could see it in her curious eyes. She nodded when needed and said 'oh' and 'yes' at precisely the right moments, but no more, only what was required, I liked that. Once I'd finished, she led me through to a small wooden door behind the bar and opened it for me to pass through first.

_Dark firewhiskey, quiet understanding, kind assistance, good ideas, __tranquil hope._

I walked out of the Leaky Cauldron the next day, my hair washed and brushed, my face shaven, my robes cleaned and my stomach full. Amy gave me sandwiches to eat on my way there, clever idea. Before eating the sandwiches, I walked straight to _L. Brown's Flora Emporium_; Amy had said roses, because roses meant love. Is that what I was feeling? Amy said it was, she was sure. I strode into the shop, conscious of my robes being the only black items in the vicinity, the uneager look on the shop assistant's face gave away the fact that I wasn't the first man to walk in here and feel as uncomfortable as a Death-Eater in a sundress. "Hello, my name is Violet Brown, how can I help you today?" She smiled, I wondered whether she was happy or not. I didn't have the time to ask.  
"Good morning. I need roses, white ones, be quick about it, thank-you." I ordered, she looked wounded, I wondered why, I'd been sufficiently polite. I hadn't returned her smile, but I wasn't happy, why should I have smiled when I was certainly not happy? She pointed out two different bundles of green and white plants; I didn't understand the difference or the attraction. I chose the slightly less mundane bundle. She enchanted ribbons and sequins and all that kind of claptrap. I scowled, "Does it need all that nonsense?" I asked, blatantly objective.  
"Yes." She answered, her jaw jutting out, I didn't like that, I didn't like her.

_Useless expense, silent anger, self doubt, little time, compounding anxiety._

I did not know where to go, therefore could not apparate there. This irritated me, I did not like not having what I wanted, and so I was going to look until I found it. Firstly I apparated to 8 Moor Road, West-Yorkshire, I knew she wouldn't be there, but I had to try, maybe she'd have returned or even left a note. I was unfortunate, the house was perfectly in order, like it always was, but she was nowhere to be seen. She must have cleaned before she left, I liked that, she must've known I'd come back. I searched the whole house, I stopped for lunch and to go to the bathroom, but for nothing else. I went to our bedroom just before I left, saving the worst for last. I put on new robes, discarding my others in a heap on the floor. There was only one picture hanging on the wall, I didn't like the walls to be crowded, I walked over to it. A young family stood smiling from within the frame, a tall blonde man and an elegant, red-haired woman, both dressed in proper wizarding garb and both looking down at a tiny red-haired baby girl, wrapped tightly in a white blanket, who was smiling at the camera from her mothers arms.

_Emotional discomfort, helpless irritation, __increasing loneliness, enormous regret, self loathing._

I looked everywhere, I even went to my parent's manor in Wiltshire, Draco had been "on business" in London and my lonely mother, Astoria, was delighted to see me, I failed to reciprocate any pleasure in visiting her. She knew nothing of my wife's where-abouts, not that I expected her to. She offered me the use of one of her owls, I declined, stating I'd already sent the brainless woman countless of letters, but she refused to answer them. Mother said marrying a blood-traitor was a mistake, her words filled me with anger, I narrowed my eyes, I was not sure whether the reason for my irritation was because she'd pointed out my failure or in protection of my defective wife. It was then I decided to carry on my search elsewhere. I went to her parent's house, they were completely unhelpful, pretending they knew nothing of their only daughter's desertion of her husband and refused to divulge anything they might have heard. I grew increasingly impatient and asked them, as politely as was possible at that moment in time to inform me of where she was as soon as they got word. Her father said they would, Legilimency told me that he was lying, but his thoughts also showed that she was not living with them, and that they did not know where she was. This aggravated me. It took me three days to find her, and that was once I'd nit picked through all the lies her friends and family told to keep me away from her. I arrived at the Burrow at six in the evening, hoping not to disturb their dinner, I rapped on the front door. An old woman, with fly-away grey and red hair answered the door, "We figured you'd be here soon enough, Mr. Malfoy." She said, not unwelcoming but definitely nowhere near friendly, exasperated maybe.  
"Mrs. Weasley, I ask of you to grant me the pleasure of seeing my wife."  
"Certainly, she's in the living room." She stepped back and allowed me through. I'd never entered the Burrow before, it was unkempt and devoid of order, this aggravated me further. I allowed the woman to show me through to the living room, where my wife was sitting on the floor, putting puzzle pieces together with our daughter and another small child.  
"I'll take the children, it's time you talked to Scorpius, my dear." She allowed the older woman to pick up our child, grab the other one's hand and leave the room. Once the door was firmly closed I walked over to her, she stood up uncertainly and looked into my eyes with fierce determination. I wondered what she was fighting against, was it me? I brought out the flower's that I'd bought, their 'never-die' charm still in place, "Roses for Rose." I whispered.

_Unwanted resistance, unfair words, hasty rejection, angry reprimands, __solemn compromise._

I arrived home late from work again, she didn't like that, but what could she do? My job was more important then two or three extra hours at home.  
"Rose!" I called as I strode into the hall after apparating onto the front step of our Yorkshire home, no answer. I scowled and headed for the kitchen from where I could hear people talking. I was expecting no one. The conversation stopped when I entered the room, all eyes turned to me. "Welcome home, father." My teenage daughter, Lavinia, said tentatively, I noticed her eyes were swollen and void of emotion. She turned to the two people seated at the table, "My father, Scorpius Malfoy." She introduced, tonelessly. They were Ministry Officials, I could tell by their clothing, I suddenly felt like a cornered dog, unaware of what I'd done, but volatile and frightened. One stood, causing me to take a step back. "We're not here to arrest you, Mr. Malfoy." He said, calmly, "We have some news, perhaps you'd like to sit." I frowned and permitted my daughter to show me to a seat. "Mr. Malfoy," the same man started, "We regret to inform you that this morning, at precisely twelve thirty-seven, the body of your wife, Rose Jane Weasley-Malfoy, aged thirty-nine years, four months and eight days, was found washed up on the shore of the Belbert River, it appears as though she threw herself in, as she does not appear to have been man-handled in any way and her wand had no record of recently performing any defensive spells. This broom was found at the very top of the Murleigh Bridge." The man indicated to his right where one of Rose's flying brooms leant against the wall, "We're very sorry for your loss. We will return tomorrow to help with the legal arrangements that surround a suicide." The men stood and left, but I did not see them go, I was doubled over in pain.

_Endless agony, throbbing temples, abandoned husband, spiteful gossip, more pain._

I didn't have the heart to organize her funeral, Ron and Hermione did it. When invitations were given out, I wasn't offered one. They saw me as the cause of her death, not her depression.  
"Just because you're not a Death Eater, doesn't mean you're not a Malfoy." Rose's father, Ron, told me one day when he came to fetch Lavinia, "You're exactly the same as you're father and grandfather, rubbish and proud." I said nothing, words escaped me little these days. Even my daughter never wanted to see me, she thought of me as an unwanted complication in her life. When she went back to Hogwarts, for her fifth year, she told me she'd be going to the Burrow for Christmas, as much as I wanted to, I couldn't let her, I was beginning to be as much of a danger to myself as Rose had been to herself.  
"You know I hate being here, with you. I want to be with my family, not you." Her words bit me like a snake, "Why am I even here, you don't talk to me, you don't pay any attention to me, you don't even love me!" She banged the dinner table with her fists angrily, the cutlery rattled against the plates.  
"Lavinia…" I pleaded, "I don't want to leave you parentless."  
"Too late, Scorpius!" She hissed, "I have been an orphan since the moment my mother died!"

_Slamming doors, dusty broomshed, whipping wind, Murleigh Bridge, Belbert River._

I floated down the rapids, the torrents and the lazy stretches of wide tributary, lifeless and cold, my robes fanned out beside me, looking like a bat with its wings outstretched. They found my body eight hours after I dived in, my skin was grey and my lips were blue. My eyes were rolled back into my sockets, my sunken and shriveled eyelids slightly open. My lips were parted and pulled into a slight smile, a show of elation, my last living emotion. In my hand I held a bunch of roses I'd picked from the garden earlier that day, some roses for Rose.


End file.
